


Basorexia

by Alphabees



Series: Words Less Spoken By [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dalton Academy, M/M, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphabees/pseuds/Alphabees
Summary: Basorexia - The overwhelming desire to kiss.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe
Series: Words Less Spoken By [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587718
Comments: 21
Kudos: 158





	Basorexia

This is the sort of conversation that Sebastian should be listening to. You know,  _ really  _ listening. 

He knows that because Kurt’s eyebrows are furrowed just so, and he’s set his hands on his hips to make himself look a little bigger like those frilled lizard things they heard about in biology the other day, and, well, he’s pretty much  _ yelling  _ at this point. 

“...That’s another thing! It’s one thing to want to mix up the solos a little bit, really, I understand that more than you might think, but there’s a council for a reason  _ Smythe _ , and…”

Well, he’s not  _ yelling,  _ but he’s getting right up in Sebastian’s face in a way that nobody else has had the balls to since he was dropped on his ass in Ohio.

It’s fascinating. 

“...The song choices aren’t anything to do with Blaine, anyway! If you’re going to complain, do it  _ properly,  _ don’t…”

Ah, right. 

They’re arguing about Blaine. 

Because Sebastian had the  _ audacity  _ to suggest that somebody else ought to take one of his three (three! Count ‘em, three) solos at sectionals. Or that they could incorporate a duet. Or anything that involved anybody  _ but  _ Blaine Anderson crooning another Katy Perry song for the low-lives of Western Ohio who have nothing better to do than watch high schoolers ruin all the latest hits. 

Sebastian’s not even arguing at this point. The meeting has long since adjourned, and as everybody filtered out, Kurt fixed him with a stare so fiery he knew the smartest thing to do would be to stay put, lest he get burned. 

So, yeah, maybe it’s more of a lecture. Maybe Sebastian hasn’t had anything to say beyond  _ ‘what do you want, Hummel?’  _ when this began - but there’s a reason for that. 

“...It wouldn’t kill you to leave him alone for one rehearsal, would it? Say whatever you want about me, I’ve heard worse, but all those ‘Hobbit’ jokes are really starting to…”

As he said, Sebastian’s sort of… Fascinated. 

Not with Kurt in particular, of course, because that would be ridiculous. Because he’s never met a human being more infuriating, more shrill, more astoundingly boring in his life. 

It’s more the way he feels like he’s under a lens whenever Kurt so much as glances in his direction. Somehow, Sebastian always manages to catch him when he wants to stare - _of_ _course_ he wants to stare because Sebastian’s the hottest thing that’s happened to this school since the Great Fire of 19-whatever - and he always gets that weird feeling. 

Some might say such a phenomenon is only possible because Sebastian’s usually staring first, but there’s a perfectly rational, logical explanation for that. 

Kurt Hummel is  _ fascinatingly  _ annoying. 

And Sebastian wouldn’t hesitate to say that feeling was mutual, because Kurt always finds the time to trade barbs with him, be it a passing-fling in the hallway or a long, drawn-out bitch-fest like this.

And he’d say something to shut him up, he really would, except…

“...I don’t know if you’ve taken a club to the head one time too many during lacrosse practice, but that’s no excuse for forgetting the basic concept of manners and human decency! Can’t you just…”

There’s this tiny curl in the corner of Kurt’s lips like he’s enjoying himself, and Sebastian’s definitely staring now because he can’t tear his eyes away from it. 

He’s tugging back, resisting his urge to smile, because they  _ both  _ know how ridiculous it is that Blaine stormed off at the mere suggestion of one of his precious solos being taken away, but Kurt’s so fixated on this whole  _ human decency  _ thing that he’s forced to hang back and tell Sebastian off because nobody else has the balls to, because he knows he can keep up with Sebastian, because he knows it drives him  _ crazy.  _

And underneath it all there’s this pulling, tugging feeling. It’s just as well that there’s nobody else around because Sebastian wouldn’t notice if they were, because he  _ knows  _ this feeling. He’s felt it countless times before on dimly-lit, crowded dancefloors he’s technically not allowed to be on, but never somewhere like this. It’s a pull, a tug, that tells him to take a step closer and wipe that barely-there smirk off of Hummel’s face by kissing it away, covering those impossibly soft lips with his own and--

Fuck, that’s kind of all Sebastian can think about now. Kurt’s still talking, he knows that because he’s watching those lips move while he maps the dip of his cupid’s bow, and he’s probably still sticking up for  _ Blaine fucking Anderson  _ and it’s such complete, total bullshit that Kurt comes to his defence every single time when there’s no way in hell he’d return the favour.

Sebastian knows that because whenever Thad makes a snide, jealous comment about Kurt’s range under his breath at their lunch table, Blaine says nothing. Sometimes he laughs. 

“...listening to me…? Hello? Earth to Sebastian?”

Sebastian crashes back to earth, still staring at those _~~annoyingly fascinating~~ _fascinatingly  _ annoying  _ lips, and then Kurt’s eyes, which are practically alight with frustration and a million colours Sebastian doesn’t have the time to count. 

He doesn’t have the time, because those eyes are looking at him expectantly, and he realises that Kurt’s finally taken a fucking breath and decided to let him speak. 

_ Think on your feet, Smythe.  _

“Sorry, princess, but I stopped listening about five minutes ago,” (true,) “because nothing makes me want to astral-project my consciousness to  _ hell  _ quite like your shrieking.” (Not so true, but a convenient excuse for Sebastian to cover his ass.)

Kurt opens his mouth to speak again, and Sebastian wrestles with his libido that’s just  _ begging  _ him to catch that lower lip between his teeth. 

“You sing better than him,” Sebastian says, which leaves that mouth hanging wide open, “and I dance better than him. Hell, one of those two statements applies to half the team - so why are we in the background every single time? It’s fucking stupid, and  _ you’re  _ fucking stupid if you think  _ I’m  _ stupid enough to believe you’re here arguing the contrary for any reason other than the school-girl crush you have on him.”

“That’s not-- I don’t sing better than him, I--”

“When Anderson can break a wine glass with his range, I’ll let you finish that sentence.” Sebastian takes a step forward, just because he fucking can, and he’s sort of living for the shocked look Kurt’s fixing him with right now. “Until then, I’m not going to let this group run itself into the ground because you’re all too busy kissing his ass to realise we’re setting ourselves up for failure. Got it?”

Sebastian’s question hangs in the air. 

And he’s about to ask if Hummel’s gone deaf, (there’s a joke in there somewhere about how his own eardrums have _finally_ been shattered by his own squealing, but Sebastian doesn’t feel like saying it as much as he should) but then he sees what’s caught his attention. 

Sebastian’s lips. 

They twist into a smirk, languorously smug, until Kurt seems to notice that  _ he’s  _ noticed, and then his gaze flickers frantically - eyes, lips, eyes, lips - until he realises that Sebastian’s getting closer, closer still, and then he steps away. 

That weird spell is broken because it has to be. From this distance, he’s just  _ Hummel,  _ a blight on his existence once more, and the world clicks back into place.

“I’m leaving,” Hummel says, and Sebastian follows the line of his throat when he swallows after, his Adam’s apple bobbing conspicuously. 

“Good,” Sebastian says back, because it’s just as well. 

He doesn’t need Kurt Hummel, annoyingly perfect as he is, clouding his head with ridiculous thoughts like that again.

**Author's Note:**

> So I found this post the other day https://alphabees-writes.tumblr.com/post/189959278568/writing-challenge-prompt-list (it's been reblogged to my tumblr there) and just really liked some of the words! 
> 
> While my coursework takes precedence over working on my longer chapters of 'Til We Make It, I'm going to be posting other random shorter stuff like this in the interim, just to make sure I don't lose my flow completely! If any of the others sound like the basis for a little ficlet you'd like to read, feel free to send me 'em. I'll probably get around to some more of them eventually anyway, but... Y'know!
> 
> Happy 2020! (It's passed midnight here, and I wanted my first tumblr post of the decade to be a writing thing!)


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